


Respite Care

by MistressofHappyEndings



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-21
Updated: 2013-11-21
Packaged: 2018-01-02 05:46:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1053200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MistressofHappyEndings/pseuds/MistressofHappyEndings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Because even the most BAMF of agents needs a little TLC every now and then.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Respite Care

“Agent Coulson, you are hereby relieved of duty for the next seventy-two hours. I don’t want to see you in this office or with any files, a computer or even a phone for the entirety of those hours, am I understood?”

“But sir --!” the senior agent protested.

Fury ignored him and addressed the other agent in the room. “Agent Barton, you are to take him home and make sure that he obeys my orders and that he remains undisturbed.”

“Understood, sir,” Hawkeye replied with carefully disguised relief. 

He did not look over at his fellow agent. Phil knew him too well, and he would balk more if he suspected for even a moment that Clint had anything to do with this impromptu vacation. Fury glanced at Hawkeye, his own concern for the obviously rundown agent evident for a fleeting instant. His face smoothed back to impassivity before Phil could spot it.

“Dismissed.”

One hand cupped under Phil’s elbow, Clint attempted to steer him out of Fury’s office. Phil shook him off and stalked unaided out the door. Clint shook his head and followed after him.

Clint didn’t have to go too far to find him. He’d stopped at a juncture of corridors, one of which led to his office, the other to the exit. The older agent was staring longingly down the hallway that housed his office - he could see the door from there - but he was also swaying just the tiniest bit from exhaustion. No one but Clint and, apparently, Fury, would have noticed, but to Clint the slip of Phil’s iron control was enough to spur him forward and once again catch the man by the elbow.

The tension practically vibrated between them, though neither man moved. Then, Phil sighed deeply and resolutely turned towards the exit. This time, he started out slowly enough to allow Clint to keep pace with him, to stay in contact. Clint squeezed his arm in silent acknowledgement. He knew how hard it had been for the older agent to walk away. The man was almost as addicted to working as Stark was to alcohol and women, but even the Ice Prince needed to rest, really rest, and Clint willingly accepted the responsibility to make sure he got it. Even without Fury’s orders or tacit blessing.

The ride to their house was made in silence. Phil belted himself in then leaned his head against the cool glass of the window. Clint couldn’t tell if he was watching the passing scenery or dozing, but he hoped it was the latter. After the past few weeks, hell, months, that Phil had endured, the man deserved all the rest he could get. Clint kept his hands firmly on the steering wheel and concentrated on driving as smoothly as possible to their destination.

All his precautions were in vain as it turned out Phil was not dozing. He straightened immediately when Clint pulled into the driveway and slid off the belt when he pulled the key from the ignition. His movements were as economical as always but slow, so very slow that he blinked owlishly up at Clint when the other man opened the door and reached out a hand to him. He hadn’t seen or heard Clint get out of the car. He stared at the outstretched hand for a moment before finally taking it and letting Clint pull him to his feet. 

Since Clint hadn’t stepped back, they ended up flush against each other. Phil’s eyes fluttered closed, and he just rested against Clint’s warm, strong body for a minute, two. Clint broke the moment when Phil began to shiver in the cool morning air. He pressed a kiss to the older man’s temple and curled an arm around his slumped shoulders. The two of them headed into the house.

The archer had fully intended to steer his weary companion to their bedroom, strip him down, and put him to bed. A loud rumble from the elder agent’s stomach altered his course to the kitchen instead. Knowing Phil, it had probably been even longer since he’d last put anything more solid than coffee and donuts on his stomach than it had been since he’d slept. Clint did not envy him the epic caffeine headache he’d have when he woke up later.

“Clint? What --?”

“You need to eat, Phil. Go ahead and sit down, and I’ll make you some breakfast.”

Phil didn’t question further, just nodded and sat down rather heavily in one of the two chairs at their small table. He propped his elbows on the table top and leaned his head into one hand. He let out a deep, deep sigh. Clint stroked his fingers over the strip of flesh exposed just above Phil’s suit collar then leaned down to press a gentle kiss to the same spot. Phil rumbled a sleepy sound of approval, but he didn’t raise his head. The younger man smiled slightly and moved off to start cooking.

A clatter of pans and cupboard doors, and several minutes later, Clint slid a simple meal of eggs and toast in front of the seated man and added a glass of juice for good measure. No way was he going to give the man real coffee, and decaf just pissed him off. Phil slowly blinked down at the presented meal. He took a few more measured breaths before he picked up the fork and silently began to eat.

Clint watched him for a few moments. “Hey, Phil, you going to be okay for a minute until I get back?”

Phil paused mid-bite and stared up at him with tired but alert eyes. He swallowed the mouthful of bread. “Where are you going?”

“Not far, down the hall only. I’ll be right back, I promise. Just keep eating, okay?”

Phil gave him an odd look but nodded and took a sip of juice. Clint watched him for another moment then left the kitchen. He returned in a few moments as promised, barefoot and dressed far more casually in a t-shirt and sleep pants. As he passed by the table, he nonchalantly dropped a handful of heavy-duty aspirin beside Phil’s plate before continuing on to the refrigerator. He poured himself a glass of juice and leaned against the counter to watch the other man finish his meal. 

The archer frowned a little; the painkillers had already vanished from their spot on the table. While Phil had never been as reluctant as Clint to take painkillers when he needed them, it still usually took some coaxing to get him to take them. Either the older man was just too tired to argue, or he hurt more than was apparent at first glance. Clint fervently hope it was the former.

Once it was clear that Phil had eaten all he was going to, Clint helped him to his feet and led him down the hall. Instead of turning into the bedroom, Clint kept going until they reached the bathroom door. He opened the door with a flourish.

Phil raised a weary eyebrow at the sight before him. “Clint, what is this?”

“Okay, I know you’re tired, but I think a bath is an obvious kind of thing.”

Phil shot him a look normally reserved for effed-up mission debriefings. “I know what a bath is, Barton. This,” he waved a hand at the lit candles, the steam rising from a full bathtub, the scent of sandalwood in the air, his sleepwear folded neatly on the closed toilet lid, “is considerably more than just a bath. Why are we here?”

Clint moved closer and rested his hands lightly on Phil’s shoulders. He flexed his fingers gently into the rock hard muscles beneath the suit jacket. His lover flinched.

“That’s why, Phil. You’re still so tensed up, you’ll never get to sleep,” Clint brushed his fingertips over the lines creasing Phil’s forehead, “let alone get rid of that headache I know you have. A hot bath will help you relax. And no offense, Phil, but when was the last time you bathed? That suit looks like it could stand on its own.”

The older man shot him another lethal glare. Clint’s expression softened as he moved a step closer. “Phil, you’re always taking care of the rest of us, giving us what we need when we need it, and doing it so well that half the time we don’t even realize that you’ve done it. You’re so good to us, to me, and I just want to give some of that back. Please, sweetheart, please let me take care of you for once.”

Phil searched his lover’s bright blue eyes for long moments, so long that Clint began to despair of an answer, when he finally gave him a tiny nod. Clint’s face lit up with a smile, and he wrapped Phil up in an impulsive embrace. He could have happily kept holding him all night long, but he really wanted to get Phil into the bath before he changed his mind. He reluctantly pulled back.

“Let’s get you undressed then.”

Suiting actions to words, Clint slid his hands under the collar of Phil’s coat and eased it off his shoulders. He did the same with the tie, dress shirt, and undershirt, folding each garment and placing them in a neat pile on top of the hamper. He then knelt and gently encouraged Phil to lift first one foot then the other to get off his shoes and socks. He hid a smile when Phil placed a hand on his shoulder to steady himself and then left it there as Clint went to work on his belt. Soon, the rest of the older agent’s clothes were removed and set aside, and Clint stood to help Phil into the tub. 

He bit back a gasp at the sheer amount of gashes and dark bruises marring his lover’s pale flesh. Some were old, some were new, all looked painful, and there were far more than there should be for a man who was supposed to spend most of his time behind a desk. Of course, Clint knew that Phil was far more than just an incredible administrator. Fury had been sending the older agent out into the field more and more over the past few months, both with the Avengers and on solo missions. It was the solo missions that worried him; he could keep an eye on Phil when they were out in the field together, but no one had his back when he went out by himself.

“Don’t, Clint,” Phil said quietly. “Part of the job, remember? None of it’s serious.”

The archer drew in a deep breath through his nose and let it out slowly. Both of them had been hurt far more seriously, but it never set right with him to see Phil injured. But he knew that Phil felt the same way, and being an Avenger meant that the other man had to deal with this far, far more often than Clint did, so he let it go. For now. He would just have to be patient and wait until Phil had gotten some sleep, then he would pin him down to the mattress, find every cut, scrape and bruise, and kiss each one better.

“Right. C’mon, into the tub with you.”

Phil hissed a little at the heat of the water, but he soon settled back with an appreciative sigh. Clint quirked a grin at the sound and waited a few more moments until Phil closed his eyes and slumped further against the porcelain. He then reached for the washcloth and soap. 

Clint decided to start at the top, since Phil had obligingly closed his eyes, and brushed the worn cloth over his forehead, down his nose, over his eyes and cheeks and mouth, even behind his ears, before rinsing the suds off. He dipped down to press a quick kiss to Phil’s lips then continued his downward route. He bathed tired limbs, massaged at stiff muscles, and stroked gently over injured flesh. And he talked. 

He told Phil how much he desired him as he brushed the cloth over a lightly furred chest; how he had banished the loneliness that Clint had lived with every day before he’d met him as he washed the crooks of elbows and the sensitive pads of fingers; how much he needed him in his life to keep him sane and grounded as he stroked down strong legs; how very much he loved him as he cradled a foot in one palm and worked the cloth between Phil’s toes.

“… and I guess it might sound like something out of a Lord of the Rings movie, but you are, Phil, you are so very precious to me. I never feel right without you here. It's like - it's like I'm not complete.”

A tiny sound from the head of the tub drew Clint’s attention. He looked up from the foot he was laving to find Phil staring at him with wide eyes and tear tracks running over his cheeks. Alarmed, Clint quickly but carefully lowered the foot back into the warm water and shuffled closer to his lover. He reached out to cup the side of the other man’s face, fanning a thumb across his cheekbone to wipe away the tears.

“What is it, Phil?” he asked with soft concern. “Am I taking too long? Do you need to stop?”

Phil shook his head. He covered the hand on his face with one of his own. “Do you mean it?”

Clint’s brow furrowed as he went over the past few minutes. Only then did he realize that he’d been speaking at all, and not just speaking, but letting everything he’d kept close to his heart trip freely past his lips. That heart began to beat faster in sudden panic. Had he’d said too much? Dammit, he knew how skittish Phil still was about emotions, even after they’d been in a steady relationship for over two years. The man had been so fantastically hurt in the past - by what or who, Clint still didn’t know - that it took vast amounts of exhaustion or pain or a combination thereof to get him to lower down any of his walls. Or, Clint realized as he stared down at the man in front of him, naked and vulnerable and staring up at him with honest eyes, trust. Love.

Clint swallowed hard against his own overwhelming emotions and somehow found enough of a voice to answer, “Every word, Phil, meant it, mean it always.”

New tears spilled over Clint’s thumb as Phil’s lips trembled with words he desperately wanted but couldn’t quite force himself to say yet. He didn’t need to say anything, though, as everything he felt was right there in his eyes. Clint slid his hand to curl gently around the back of Phil's neck, pulling his head up and angling him until Clint could kiss him. There was no lust in the kiss, just comfort and understanding and affection, and Phil just gave himself to it, soaking up the loving attention like a sponge. Clint pulled back slowly, lingeringly, and rested their foreheads against each other. He smiled slightly at the small sound of protest Phil made at the separation. 

“Ssh, we’re almost done,” Clint whispered soothingly. “Just scoot down a bit for me, Phil, okay? That’s it, lean back, I’ve got you. Close your eyes now, I don’t want to get shampoo in them.”

Phil obeyed without question, his head nestled trustingly in the crook of Clint’s elbow. Clint managed to open the shampoo bottle with one hand and tenderly worked his coated fingers through Phil’s short, dark hair. He turned it into another sensual massage, loving the soft, rumbly purr his actions garnered from the other man and completely ignoring how soaked his shirt was getting. He rinsed out the shampoo with the same slow thoroughness then lifted his lover to a sitting position in the tub. Clint nuzzled at Phil’s throat before he placed a kiss to the underside of his jaw.

“Ready to get out, sweetheart?” he murmured against the stubbled skin. 

“Clint …” The younger man pulled back far enough to look into Phil’s face. Phil smiled tiredly and leaned forward to rest his head on Clint’s shoulder. He turned his head slightly to press his own kiss into Clint’s neck. “Ready now.”

Clint shifted to help Phil out of the tub. He swaddled him in warm bath sheets then sat him down on the closed toilet lid and picked up another towel to rub his hair dry. He had to grin at the sight Phil made, like an oversized toddler in towels and hair going in all directions and up way past his bedtime. He chuckled at the weak glare Phil shot him as he reached for the clean clothes piled on the back of the toilet. 

“No.”

Clint tilted his head down to meet Phil’s worn-out gaze. “What’s that, sweetheart?”

“Not today. Leave them off.” He tugged at the hem of Clint’s damp shirt. “Yours off, too.”

Clint’s eyes widened a bit at what he was suggesting. There were many days that he wished he could get his lover into bed without any clothes, but both of them had been jolted out of bed by too many emergencies over the years not to make some kind of sleep wear practical. Then again, they were as safe as they were going to get, and no way was Fury going to call them within his seventy-two hour mandate. Why shouldn’t they indulge?

With that thought, Clint quickly stripped off his shirt and pants, briefly standing alone before he reached down for Phil’s hands. “Thank you,” Phil whispered in thanks as he allowed himself to be pulled to his feet. The towels fell away as he stood.

“Never a hardship, Phil,” Clint murmured back, gathering the other man close under one arm. Both men took a moment to savor the feeling of skin against skin before Clint reluctantly nudged Phil towards the door. 

Clint had left a light on in the bedroom. It made it easy for him to maneuver Phil down into the bed and follow him under the cool softness of clean sheets. With a soft smile, he opened his arms. Phil immediately slid into them, tucking his head under Clint’s chin and spreading his hands over the archer’s chest. Clint closed the embrace around the other man, one arm curled around Phil’s waist, fingers tracking lightly at the small of his back, the other under Phil’s neck, palm cradling the base of his skull. He tipped his head back slightly at the feel of Phil’s open mouth against the skin above his heart and tightened his hold. Phil had once quietly confessed that this position, where he could just immerse himself in the sight, sound, touch, smell, taste of Clint made him feel safe and grounded, like he could just forget everything else in the world for a while. The archer had made sure to do it more often since then.

“Dream sweet, Phil,” he whispered against the top of Phil’s head. 

Phil hummed and rubbed his face against Clint’s chest, snuggling deeper into his embrace, and finally, finally relaxed. Within minutes, he was fast asleep. Clint breathed a quiet sigh of relief as he felt Phil grow heavy in his arms. Shifting a bit to a more comfortable position, he made sure his hold on Phil was secure and settled in to think of as many things as he could to keep his lover relaxed for the next three days.


End file.
